I'm sat here drinking one of a plethora of improbably stolen J20's, and even though it's midnight as I write, it feels like midday. My sleeping pattern is delicate anyway, and now it's probably wrecked for the next few days. Still, getting off a smoky beach at 5am will do that, as will only claiming sleep as your own to spite the dawn chorus. It was worth it, too.

Yesterday me and my guitar went to a barbeque on the grass by the sea down here, and though I didn't really know many people there, I was unafraid and unshy. I know I'm a good player, it's just the audience that does me in sometimes. Plus I'd much rather just play than sing. The irony here though, is that even now, as the Real World looms, and at an age when I'm sure right minded parents would think 'grow out of it', the only thing in my life I am sure of is that I want to play music, and I want to make people happy when I do so.

The reason I was so ready this time, I don't know. The only thing that comes to mind at this moment is the fact that I'm starting to stop caring; or perhaps some of out of character backbone. It doesn't matter, because despite entering into this whole thing sight unseen, what I was looking for, I found. And so the afternoon became the night, and the night became the morning, and I played and sang and saw the smiles and heard the voices sing with me. The fire never died until we killed it, and the sun came up to take its place as our warmth and light.

The last time I felt this same kind of shine moving around me, was the morning after being sat on a front room floor. Sat with a different group of people, but with the same hearts and hopes being floated in the air as the ones riding those ashen embers dancing on the breeze last night. I've been a fool for not doing this sooner, and to an extent I'm still a fool for doing it now, frantic in the face of all that's coming to take me away. I keep getting the feeling this is commonplace for the people I shared last night with, and that they seem fairly inured to it. But to me, it's new and beautiful and giving me many things I've been looking for for years and as much I'm going to mourn it for myself, I'm also going to hope they still understand how wonderful this thing that they are part of is, and remember that their luck in having it is something that should not be overlooked.

Ever think that it could be this good forever? Not really, I think I'm too grounded or pessimistic for that. Sometimes I refuse to dream, because I'm scared they'll end up nightmares. I'm scared I'll never be able to cope with that part of myself.

Ever think that it could be this good again? I hope so, and sooner than it probably will be.